Malice
by FubsadooIsGod
Summary: A bit of an attack on the Rachel Mason Mary Sue.
1. Chapter 1

**Part 1**

Light sank back into the shadows, sulking, cowering from the sky as it swirled and spread with an intimidating mischief. Night was up there, extinguishing stars, and in the air, teasing street lamps with such blatant malice that one couldn't help but be comforted. Isolated, distant figures shuffled slowly through the streets, with not one thought for the dance playing out around them, but all aware, away from the glare of day, of the safe honesty that only darkness offered.

The girl walked slowly but with purpose, her hair falling from behind her ears to shield her face from the cold. She was tired, so tired that it would take more effort to stop her legs from moving than to leave them as they were. So she continued, with her head bowed to an imaginary wind, storming through the demons in her head. Solitary energy in an overwhelming stillness. A figure in the dark. A lady in the night.

She walked in this unlikely calm for some time, until she noticed that her mind had shifted so very slightly, that the playful charm of the empty world had floated high up above, and that she had crossed an invisible boundary into Rochdale town centre. She slowed for a moment, almost coming to a stop. A small but steady stream of cars, glaring at her, at the guilt blistering out from within her, as they bounded around a corner. She crossed the road quickly, blinking back tears. There were people up ahead. She passed them, and passed many more, pulling her persona of purpose around her like a blanket, pretending she had somewhere to be. Headlights seared her back. The car pulled over.

"Rachel?" A familiar voice from the right.

"Tom. Hi!"

Her smile was convincing, but it's incongruity in the situation gave her away.

"You okay, Rachel?"

"Yeah, fine." she said, still smiling despite his obvious concern.

"Do you need a lift anywhere? I'm just heading home, I could drop you off on the way…" His tone was friendly, but his forehead was still bent into a frown of confusion. Rachel hesitated for a moment.

"Um, I… I, er…"

"I presumed you were heading home, considering the time…" he said with a slight impatience, daring her to push him to further questions. She sighed.

"Okay," then, catching herself, she smiled once more, "thank you."

Eddie breathed heavily with impatience, rounding that corner with a bit more speed than he should. He turned into the car park, driving past the smokers left from the football crowd, and two minutes later he was at the bar.

They drove in silence for a minute or so, Rachel staring stubbornly out of the window as Tom repeatedly glanced at her before turning back to the road. It was to break the awkward silence that he eventually decided to try his luck.

"Where were you heading then, at this time of night?" It was obvious to him that she was walking in the opposite direction of home, and it was obvious to her that he knew that, though the diplomacy of the situation demanded that neither acknowledge this out loud. She looked down from the window to the door handle, tapping it lightly in her hand. Her head ached under the weight of the tears she was defying, and her heart ached under the weight of the things she ached to tell this relative stranger. But she hadn't lost control just yet.

"I was on my way home." It was a lie, and both of them knew it, but that was the nature of this game, this shift of responsibility. He asked the question, and handed it to her, and she promptly refused to answer, and absolved him of any guilt. It was calm, and it was controlled, and it suited the stubborn woman and the innocent outsider equally well.

Eddie clumsily pulled out the change from his last order, handing over his money with a drunken glare. He held the glass in both hands, shaking his head with a slow, deep anger.

"How… how could she?" he muttered, spitting disgust through his words. His anger slid back, and his eyes showed grief in his quiet whisper.

"How could she do that?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2**

Fifteen years old, with a girl hanging off his arm on a lazy Monday morning. He wore a long, skinny tie and a buttoned up blazer, subverting the class clown. His friends debated the weekend score outside the classroom.

"Alright miss?" he said with barely detectable cheek, testing the water.

"Alright Dave?" his teacher mimicked with a laugh as she walked past them, opening the classroom door, "Come on in then."

Miss Mason stood behind her desk, smiling at the class as they skulked to their desks. She had a quiet confidence, and a cheerful enthusiasm that her pupils found almost as endearing as her youthful figure.

"Looking good, miss!" came David's voice from the back row, as Miss Mason turned to the board.

"Okay, that's enough now." Her tone was serious, but, with her back to the class, she leaked a smile.

***

Rachel put down her mug and turned away from the window, back to reality. She flicked through the letters on the kitchen table, until she came across one addressed to her, handwritten in familiar lettering. Edging to the bottom of the stairs, she listened carefully for the shower. Satisfied, she went back to her coffee, and settled down to read.

***

"Sophia!"

The two friends sped up to meet sooner, but it was the ten year old who first bridged the gap.

"Hi Rachel!" he ran forwards as his Godmother bent down, throwing his arms around her neck and kissing her cheek. It was an enthusiastic show of affection that most boys his age would be embarrassed by, but Rene felt that he was simply more charming than they were. His mother's greeting was almost identical. Rachel grinned.

"Are you well?"

Sophia nodded. "Oh yes, we're fine. Rene's wearing your birthday present, see."

The smirking boy with long dark curls (like a handsome prince, he often imagined) unzipped his coat to reveal his t-shirt. Rachel smiled yet again, nodding her approval.

"And how are you, Sophie?"

The eight year old nodded without saying a word. She wasn't a shy child, but she often appeared to be next to her older brother.

"Pascal's with Pierre," Sophia explained, "He's got a bit of a cold, so they're waiting in the pub for us to meet them."

Rachel continued to nod, and sigh, and frown in reaction to her older friend's tales as they walked through the town. She had admired the woman's strength and resilience since they had very first met, looked up to the girl who had taken her under her wing. For where Amanda Fenshaw was naïve, Sophia Dubec was desperate, widowed with a small, cheeky boy and a baby on the way. The Italian pointed at the window of a pub across the road, at the grinning blonde boy with sticky orange Calpol dripping from his bottom lip. Rene laughed with the adults, while Sophie rolled her eyes at him.

The Godmother watched Pascal wave, then noticed a bigger hand waving beside it. Her laughter stopped a little too suddenly, as she saw the figure of a handsome Frenchman holding his son close. The moment of family bliss somehow sent a sickness to her gut, but she shook herself, smiled politely, and continued into the pub.


	3. Chapter 3

**Part 3**

_Dear Rachel,_

The letter was accompanied by a few photocopied photographs. The smirking boy with the long, dark curls and a lazy stubble, glass in hand with an arm around his mother, and another pulling his reluctant sister into shot. A teenager wearing a slightly old fashioned shirt, visibly smaller than the friends who surrounded him as he posed with a birthday cake. Illness had coloured his skin lighter than his hair, but Sophia wrote in an excited scrawl of how her most vulnerable child was back at school.

***

With their hunger satisfied, the children ran off to play, leaving the adults to their coffee.

"Is everything going well at work, Pierre?" Rachel asked politely. He looked awkward now the kids were gone, as if the two women were the couple, and not him and his wife. Sophia had confided in Rachel long ago, when they spent hours in a shared flat, joking about Sophia's obsession with the French and Rachel's childish ways. The sweet English girl had listened with awe to Sophia's exaggerated stories of her dear, beloved Claude, the young, mild academic studying in Milan who had brought her to this foreign country, before being cruelly and dramatically taken at the height of their romance. So when, by odd coincidence, Sophia found herself the object of another Frenchman's affection, Rachel had of course teased. But this was different. Pierre was no Claude, but he was good, and intelligent and oh so very handsome. He made a wonderful father, and he and Sophia were good friends.

"Yes, things are good. We bought a new car recently." He was monotonous, almost sounding bored. He countered this by holding Sophia's hand and glancing into her eyes, kissing her lightly on the lips. There was no doubt who was the outsider in the trio now, and once again she felt a sick weight in her stomach. She glanced over to the play area for a distraction, but hearing Rene's broken, playful French made her feel even worse.

This wasn't right. Sophia, Pierre, the children, the house, the car... All brought on a deep, lingering sickness, which distracted Miss Mason as she stood before her class the next day, and consumed her mind as she ate alone in the staffroom at lunchtime. And as the sadness, the injustice, the indignation slowly grew, never once were Miss Mason's unhealthy feelings tinged with the slightest guilt.


	4. Chapter 4

**Part 4**

Eddie dried off and dressed quickly, opening the bedroom curtains to a deceptively warm weekend sun. He walked slowly down the stairs, the smell of coffee gradually becoming stronger, until he found himself stood silently against the kitchen door frame, her delicate figure hunched over on the table.

She was checking over the post he'd brought in from the front door, letter in one hand and her head resting gently on the other. Steam lifted lightly through her hair, draped as a curtain around the mug before she drew it back behind her ear. She placed the letter carefully on the table, lifting the coffee slowly to her lips, her eyes fixated on the beautiful but untidy scribble across the page.

"Is that handwritten?" He walked over as she flicked her head back, a suspiciously guilty shock drawn over her features. He picked up the envelope.

"Milano…?" he read the postmark aloud, "What, as in Milan? As in Italy?"

Rachel hesitated, as Eddie's gaze drifted over to the photographs.

"Yes. Yes, an old friend who moved there," Eddie leant down to look, "That's her eldest there… And that's her and her daughter on either side…" He picked up the picture of Pascal's birthday party.

"And another son?"

"Yes, another son," she replied with a nervous smile, before handing him a third photo, almost guiltily, "And here are her two youngest."

"Twin boys? Wow, looks like she's got her hands full, all that testosterone." Rachel nodded, keen to change the subject, and said the first thing that came to mind.

"They're coming over here in a few weeks, on holiday in Manchester. Rene and Sophie are considering foreign universities… They're the first two," she added.

"Oh, nice! We'll have to meet up, have them round here maybe." He smiled his trademark happy innocence, and Rachel returned it, ignoring her growing dread.

"Maybe."

***

"Someone's here to see you, miss!"

The raucous laughter and jarring taunts rippled from David Parry, out across the back row and forward, up towards the teacher's desk. As the excitement rose to a climax, Sophia mimed her apologies through the glass in the classroom door, gesturing towards the foyer.

"Okay, okay, settle down," Miss Mason ordered quite superfluously, for the class had already moved on from the distraction and fallen into idle chatter, "Five minutes left, let's go through the answers."

"Sophia, what are you doing here?" She had left the class quicker than the students for a change. Away from the kids, her eyes were tired, and her face was frowned with what should have been confusion, but looked more like concern.

"I just thought we could meet up, you know… Go for a drink after work, catch up. Are you okay?" she added, mirroring Rachel's expression with an overriding kindness.

"Yeah, yes I'm fine, just tired. You know, actually that sounds like a really good idea," she forced a smile, "I've a few things to tell you."

"You're leaving? I thought you loved it in that dump!" Sophia smirked with the same cheeky arrogance that she had given her eldest son. Rachel laughed, relaxing despite herself.

"I know, I know. And I do, you know, I've really learned a lot there." She sighed. "But you know me, itchy feet. There's a head of department job I've got my eye on, actually, down your way…" Sophia listened attentively, aching softly and silently with concern for her younger friend. Rachel had grown confident in the years they'd known one another, found a job and a life that she excelled at. She was close to flawless, successful in all her endeavours. But she'd grown to fear failure above all else, to despise her own imperfections, and she could never approach life with the laid-back optimism that Sophia did.

"Well you're welcome to stay with us at first," she offered, as Rachel discussed her concerns for finding affordable accommodation, "The new house seems quiet, even with the five of us. We must just be used to being crowded."

Rachel said her thanks, the smile remaining on her face as the feeling left it. New house. Five bedrooms. That handsome husband had really turned Sophia's fortunes. She moved to the bar to order another round, always feeling justified in her growing resentment.


	5. Chapter 5

**Part 5**

"…_usual run for children's books is 20,000."_

They appeared as a network of complex mathematical curves; smooth and bold, dark but soft.

"…_no review copies were issued - but the author revealed someone close to Harry dies. Many bookshops opened specially in the middle of the night…"_

Her head leant closer to his, and they bounced playfully for a moment before settling.

"…_could buy Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire as soon as it was released for sale at midnight."_

He contrasted this in every way; a light-ish blonde which couldn't settle on one shade, short, falling flat over his forehead. His eyes gazed blankly at the news reader with the lightning scar, his lips curling up at the corners as his wife stroked his chest, mischief in her eyes. He tightened his grip involuntarily, pulling her millimetres closer.

She laughed silently, her short breath tickling his neck. His gaze flickered away from the screen to momentarily meet hers. Brushing those dark, soft curves aside with delicate precision, he pressed his lips to her forehead and closed his eyes for the moment, before directing them back towards the television.

Enough.

Rachel rose quickly, mumbled something about being back in a minute, and stalked the empty hallway to the kitchen.

_She doesn't love him._

Her eyes closed temporarily, and she took a deep breath.

_She never loved him._

A lover of her own would have noticed her hands shaking. She sat down, and crossed them over her chest, reaching back over her shoulders towards his. He gripped them, pushed them forwards as he leant over her body, his head falling into line with hers. She closed her eyes for the kiss, falling so far from reality that her whisper was unintentional.

"Pierre…"

"Rachel."

Her whole body fell instantly to its normal position and froze.

"Red or white?"

She stood up slowly, moving with a slow certainty towards his back. He looked over his shoulder to hear her response, and she smiled, taking the final few steps quickly.

"I'm not sure…" She looked over him at the bottles, her heart excited, not from her plans but from her thoughts. "Red looks nice."

He nodded, stepping away to pull a corkscrew from the drawer. "Sophia liked that one when we bought it last time."

Rachel turned away, reaching up to a cupboard for three wine glasses. The fluttering in her chest spread upwards, and her head suddenly felt weightless, so that she had to hold the counter to remind herself of reality. She left the glasses by her hand while Pierre poured, following him back to the living room in a trance, before settling back down in her chair. Her eyes settled lazily on the second half of the late night film, leaving her mind to play out an hour of giddy amusement.

***

They pulled at the gas cylinder with all four of their hands, wincing as it scraped audibly over the flags, before rolling it into place by the barbecue. She looked up at the clear sky as Eddie fiddled with the tap.

"Lucky the weather turned out so good." He followed her gaze, raising a hand to shield his eyes.

"Not a cloud in the sky." He gave her a childish grin, and she smiled reluctantly. Eddie turned back to the barbecue and rolled his eyes, knowing she wouldn't relax until they arrived.

Thirty minutes later, the doorbell rang. The greetings were outwardly polite and inwardly awkward for all but the two youngest, and Rachel led them quickly through the house to the garden.

"Eddie, I told you to put fresh clothes on when you'd finished cleaning that thing!" He pulled an incredulous face for the benefit of the guests, who he had turned to face. The party was headed by a young man, with a light stubble and a wild mane. Childish arrogance was in his permanent smirk and his flamboyant clothes, but manhood was in his eyes and the way he stood tall by his mother. Her face was tired with travel and the beginnings of age, but even after an early morning and hours in airports, her eyes betrayed an unbreakable passion, an indefinable spark. The daughter was instantly recognisable as her mother's, but she seemed calmer, quieter, fading happily into the background with her younger brother. His hair was blonde and straight, falling as low as his ears, and he walked slowly.

"I'll go upstairs in a minute, put a shirt on if you like." He teased her as he looked over to the youngest two boys. It was evident from this short encounter that they were quite different people, despite sharing identical bodies. They both dressed smartly for boys of their age, in identical clothes, though one had kept himself neat, whilst the other sported unbuttoned cuffs and hair that begged to be combed. They looked with an eager intelligence at their surroundings, weighing up the garden with an easy confidence. Eddie's first thought was that they were the kind of children he would enjoy teaching. Rachel watched them too.

"It doesn't matter." She held his arm tightly, and he frowned, watching her face carefully. He wondered why on earth she still seemed so worried, but sighed, knowing better than to ask right now. He shook Sophia's hand and introduced himself.

(All of the news reader dialogue in this part was taken from this BBC news article, ./onthisday/hi/dates/stories/july/8/newsid_ , so obviously credit for that goes to the BBC.)


End file.
